


H.

by Jayj456



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Drinking, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Kissing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Rimming, Rough Sex, Scars, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6734716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayj456/pseuds/Jayj456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For decades Rick has been at war with the Governor.</p><p>His people, wary and broken, shattered from the vitality they had before. </p><p>Luckily for him the Governor is in the exact same position.</p><p>They make an agreement—an arrangement to sign a peace treaty between them.</p><p>On one condition—Rick must marry someone from Woodbury. The wedding will bridge the festering wound between the two cities or simultaneously tear them all a part limb from limb</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Looking to Turn this Piss to Wine.

**H.**

A thick damp sky, murky clouds and a sense of endlessness spans out before him.

The air is dense, misty and fogy in the morning light. Rick can hardly see across the yard, towards the forest where the dead walk and the living are hunted. He swallows gruffly, knowing exactly what lies beyond the ridge.

Each day their numbers grow.

Clawing, groaning, sickly grotesque walkers piling up at the fences; they try to keep their numbers down. They send out people every hour to kill them, stabbing their heads with various objects they can find but it’s still not enough.

Rick knows, like he’s always known that they need help.

They can’t fight this on their own. It’s become painfully obvious as the months had waned and the walkers grew exponentially, drawn by the noise. They were like parasites, all simultaneously seeking a host.

Michonne comes up beside him.

The silence between them is comfortable, easy. The scowl that once graced her features is long gone, replaced by something else. Rick has given up trying to decipher the black beauty but he can tell she’s found a measure of happiness here, in these walls.

“Ready?” She asks, her hand hovering over her Katana.

“No,” Rick sighs.

He’ll probably never be ready. Not for this—never for this.

“Rick…”

“I know,” He says slowly. “I’ve gone over it in my head again and again…There just isn’t any other way ‘round this.”

She touches his arm and he wishes he could find comfort in her touch. Instead it just makes him feel repulsed with himself. _What kind of man would agree to this anyway?_

“It’s time,” Michonne replies.

He watches her leave, noting a foul taste that floods his mouth. She was sympathetic; they all were considering what he had to do.  Perhaps if he was that kind of man he would have looked at things differently. He supposes that this might be God’s way of punishing him for killing Shane and inadvertently killing Lori too.

The sky remains ugly, cloudy and dank in its soggy disposition.

Rick steels his nerves with icy determination. This was for his family, so that they could live here in peace. It may not be the future he had planned but it was a future all the same.

A car engine reeves up behind him and he knows it's time.

Taking one lasting look at the sky, he spits, trying to imagine his designated utopia—a utopia where skies were the picturesque of hell flames and earth was filled with the living dead.

**.*.**

Woodbury isn’t a safe haven.

Despite the fact that Philip Blake is a madman, a ruthless tyrant that couldn’t care less about his people, the place itself isn’t exactly innocuous. The soldier’s patrol the streets, pushing the civilians in line using intimidation or outright brutality. It revolts him to his core to watch them strut around the streets, forcing people back into submission using humiliation and terror.

The Governor used the walls to lure people into false security, all the while shackling them to their inevitable doom. He promised food, shelter, community and a place to hide from the dead.

His seductive word had entranced the citizens for a while, until they realized what he really was and by then it was too late.

For decades Rick has been at war with the Governor.

There have been bloody battles, wars and more death than he can even count. They fought vigilantly, neither one of them backing down or showing cowardice. After all the blood, death, shit and piss that had been thrown his way he had taken the blunt of it all.

His people, wary and broken, shattered from the vitality they had before.

Lucky for him the Governor was in the exact same position. What once used to be a marvellous safe-haven was now a depilated, rotting mess. The soldiers were few and far in between, the people, fragmented and brittle walked the streets cautiously as if expecting another all-out war.   

Rick sighs as they drive through the streets.

The buildings were crumbling, nothing but phantoms of the magnitude they used to be before.

“We get in and get out,” Hershel says. “I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to.”

“I agree,” Michonne mumbles.

They pull into an apartment complex close to the Governor’s office. The minute they step out there are several armed escorts waiting for them. Rick can’t help but roll his eyes, but he hands his Colt over and follows them anyway.

The journey isn’t terribly long and when they reach the Governor he sort of wished it was longer.

“Mr. Grimes,” Philip smiles crudely, setting his papers aside.

Since half of Woodbury had burn down years ago, thanks to a Coup Rick had staged, the Governor was now stationed in a warehouse. The place is fusty, filled with rusting metal and dripping water. There is a single desk in the middle of the room, where the Governor sits and his henchmen crowd around him. “I was expecting you several hours ago.”

“We got tied up,” Rick lies.

“Fair enough,” Philip is still smiling, which Rick finds horrifyingly unnatural. “Would ya’ll like some refreshments? A drink perhaps?”

“No thank you,” Rick says, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. “Ya know what we came here for.”

“Eager to consummate the arrangement eh?” Philip half sneers, earning a laugh form serval of his men. “Now let’s not forget our manners. Anyone else? Michonne?” He voice clips over her name, as if he is struggling to keep the venom out.

“I’m good,” Michonne replies, her stance as lax as ever.

The struggle becomes obvious when he stares at her head on with his one good eye. There is a slight twitch in his lip, a quiver that gives his sadistic nature away.

“Alright,” Philip says. “Let’s get down to business, bring out the kid.”

“Kid?” Rick blurts, feeling his face flush hotly. “Ya said it was gonna be a woman!”

“I know what I said,” Philip replies. “However things have changed.”

“Why don’t ya fuckin’ keep yer God damn word?” Rick barks. “What the hell am I supposed to do with a kid?”

“I’m sorry,” Philip responds, his face growing dark. “Are you sayin’ you are being treated unfairly?”

The tension thickens in the room, all eyes swing to Rick as he deliberates a response. Logically he knows he’s outnumbered, the Governor took their weapons away and most of the soldiers are carrying AK-47’s. He doesn’t have a chance in hell of making out of here alive and the Governor damn-well knew it.

He turns his head away, clenching his jaw tightly.

“No?” Philip probs. “Then I guess we can move forward. Bring out the boy.”

Several men drag the kid out into the middle of the warehouse. He’s wearing a bag over his head and his arms are handcuffed behind his back.

“Why the kid?” Hershel asks, keeping his weight on his good leg. “Why not a grown man or woman like ya promised?”

Philip smirks. “His father is a traitor, he caused mutiny in my ranks and after I killed him I thought I might as well get rid of the kid as well. I can’t have bad seeds growing in my garden now can I?”

The soldiers shove the boy forward, he stumbles blindly.

“He’s all yers Grimes,” Philip chuckles. “We’ll have our physician stop by in a few weeks to make sure everythin’ is goin’ according to plan. Remember the terms of our agreement, if anythin’ and I mean anythin’ goes wrong then all bets are off and we’ll be back to where we were three years ago.” 

A sense of dread fills him, it’s sudden and profound and it nearly knocks him over. What the hell was he supposed to do with a kid? The idea turns his stomach, makes him want to vomit and rage against the stupid idea.

God, why the hell did he agree to this anyway?

Michonne walks over and takes the boy by his arm and leads him out the door. Rick makes sure Hershel is out of the warehouse before he finally leaves. The soldiers escort them back to their car, handing back Michonne’s Katana and his Colt.

“I hope I never have to see this place again,” Michonne says.

Rick wordlessly agrees.

**.*.**

When they get back to the Prison there are people everywhere.

Most of them curiously anticipating his return with his new betrothed; Rick feels a horrible knot in his stomach when he realises how quickly they will find out that the Governor has fucked him over.

The crowd is anxious, most of them talking loudly and outright applauding Rick as he exits the car. Carl is the first to greet him, striding towards him with Judith on his hip. “Sorry,” He says. “I’ll see if I can make them go away.”

“No it’s fine,” Rick mumbles. “Is everything ready for tonight?”

“Yeah,” Carl replies. “Father Gabriel is going to officiate the ceremony.”

“Excellent,” Rick deadpans.

Michonne steps out of the car with  boy behind her and Hershel. They didn’t take the sack off his head so if by chance he escaped, he couldn’t lead the Governor back here.

“Listen Carl,” Rick places his hand on his sons shoulder. “I need ya to call a council meeting. I want to speak with everyone before tonight’s events.”

“Sure,” Carl nods. “Oh and Dad…I’m sorry about….ya know…the situation….but Mom would be proud of you for doing something so self-less.”

“Thanks,” Rick says, patting Carl on the head.

He watches his son and daughter take off, feeling a mixture of anxiety and turmoil. They are barely at the Prison doors before Carol is approaching him, eyes concerned and burning with questions. He nods slowly and follows her up towards the Prison. “I need to call an emergency council meeting. Carl will round everyone up so can ya just meet me there?”

“Okay,” Carol says and she pats his arm. “It’ll be okay Rick.”

Unlikely, he wants to say, instead he nods robotically.

Rubbing his temple he wishes he could have a moment of peace.

No council meetings or the weight of everyone’s life resting on his shoulders, no crazy high stakes and expectations, just him alone for a few hours to think. It’s barely noon and he’s completely exhausted, utterly and hopelessly. The burden of today’s events is far too heavy for him to carry alone.

On the way to the library he almost runs into Glenn and Maggie, they nod to him and together they enter the room. Hershel takes his seat at the head of the table, along with Glenn, Maggie and Michonne at his side. Abe and Rosita arrive next, along with Carol, Tyrese and Sasha.

Rick stands before them, feeling like his bones are made out of jelly.

“Alright,” He says. “As ya can see the Governor didn’t exactly keep his word.”

Abe snorts. “Figures.”

“Now, I don’t….” Rick sighs. “Christ, I don’t know how to say this or how exactly to put this but I hope to God the kid is legal—or else…I can’t…I mean how can I go through with—”

“We’ll figure somethin’ out,” Carol says. “We can ask the boy some questions and see how old he is. I know Philip is crazy but he isn’t _that_ crazy.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Abe cut in. “The guy is bat-shit crazy.”

“We’re supposed to be makin’ him feel better,” Rosita hisses, nudging his arm.

“All the preparations are ready for tonight,” Maggie chimes in. “We’ve got venison on the grill and Beth even decorated the messy hall so at least the ceremony won’t be half as bad. I reckon it won’t be the most extravagant weddin’ but at least we can celebrate all the same.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Rick replies.

“Rick,” Sasha says. “I know you got the shit end of the stick but I think I speak for everyone when I say that you are the best person we’ve ever known.”

“I agree,” Tyrese says. “We might have not seen eye to eye but we’ve all fought and bled for this place, for our people. This newfound peace will make our lives easier and it will help make livin’ in this shitty world even less shittier.”

“Tonight we drink and celebrate peace,” Hershel injects. “We’ll toast to freedom and the new world.”

A chorus of people agreed all around.

Rick observes his family, happy and joyful, lighter than they’ve been in years. This new truce with the Governor will bring about a huge change in their community. They no longer had to fear for their lives when they went on runs, there would be no more open field bloody wars, they were free.

It was something he should relish in, the taste of liberation.

However, he knew eventually things would turn sour. The Governor was fickle by nature; this truce would last just as long as it served its purpose. There could only be one plausible outcome and that would be when the Governor was dead.

Rick forces a smile, tips his head to his family, all the while calculating his next move. Tonight he’ll have to marry the kid to make the arrangement legitimate and then when the Governor was appeased he’d strike, swift and hard.

It was only a matter of time.

**.*.**

The ceremony isn’t half as bad as he was expecting.

Beth forced him to shower and shave for the evening and he even put on some clean clothes. The messy hall actually was decorated with white streamers; Beth was absolutely glowing in a radiant white dress and her signature cowboy boots as she ordered everyone around. Maggie and even Sasha dressed up.

The people from his group were apprehensive and curious about the boy, as was Rick since he didn’t even know what the hell the kid looked like. In the grand scheme of things it was irrelevant, Rick just had to marry him, consummate the marriage and everything would be dandy.

Hours before the ceremony Carol and Michonne confirmed that the kid was twenty-two and fully aware of what was going on.

Now here he stands, with Father Gabriel ready to officiate the vows, Glenn standing in as his best man and Carol for the kid’s witness.

Everybody is here, a vast amount of people have come to show their support to Rick for finally bringing peace. He nods to the people he knows personally and smiles tensely to the ones he doesn’t. It’s a horrible charade and he feels his stomach slowly starting to churn.

He’s been married before.

It was nothing like this, no cheap banners and crappy streamers and it certainly wasn’t in a _fucking_ Prison. The wedding had been champagne glasses, white silk cloth tables, Tuxedoes and Shane’s God awful impressions of Alec Baldwin.

Secret laughs between Rick and Lori as he held her close, feeling her wonderful cheek pressed up against his. Their first dance, loud drunken slurred toasts and the wedding march as his beautiful blushing bride came floating towards him down the aisle.

That had been delightful, majestic and at some points magical.

This was a sordid affair, thrust upon him through coercion and distorted into delusion of grandeur. All dolled up and brought to life by the fantasies of a sixteen year old girl. However, he couldn’t begrudge Beth for it, her infectious excitement or anyone else’s for that matter. They were happy and they had every right to be.

It was him who felt like he was floating in a pit of despair.

Father Gabriel clears his throat, subtly announcing the beginning of the ceremony. “Is the bridegroom ready?”

The large crowd is parted halfway down the middle so Rick can see Michonne signaling her response. “Good,” Father Gabriel says. “Let’s get started.”

There is no wedding march.

Just an awkward, long silence as the boy walks through the crowd. His head is down, dark hair falling into his eyes. At first glance he isn’t much to look at; he’s the same height as Rick, except his shape is slimmer, broader shoulders and less muscle mass. To be quite honest, he doesn’t look a day over sixteen.

As he approaches whispers break out amongst the crowd. Some people give a horrified cry, a shout of indignation at his young age. The Daryl's combat boots stomp against the concrete floor, his shirt is ripped at the sleeves and his hands are shoved deeply into his army pants.

God, he looks young.

Rick swallows down the bile in his throat and stares straight ahead. When he finally makes to where Rick is everybody is speaking rapidly.

“Silence please,” Father Gabriel says. “We are about to begin.”

To his surprise it all happens relatively quickly.

Father Gabriel says a few short words, reads from the bible and sings a hymn. Then asks the dreaded question, if anyone objects please come forward, which nobody does.

“Do you Rick Grimes take this man to be your lawful husband? To have and to hold, for richer or poorer, forsaking all others?”

“I do,” Rick says mechanically.

“Do you Daryl Dixon take this man to be your lawful husband? To have and to hold, for richer or poorer, forsaking all others?”

“I do,” The kid mumbles, staring at the ground.

“I now pronounce you husbands,” Father Gabriel announces.

They don’t kiss.

Hell, they barely even look at each other.

Scattered ‘hooray’s’ breakout through the crowd and shortly after everyone is moving towards the kitchen for the feast. Rick is caught up with several congratulations and well-wishes; he nods, shakes hands and proceeds to the other room with Daryl following closely behind him.

They sit at the head table, side by side as they are served their dinner.

In retrospect it’s nothing special.

A large portion of venison, some rice and a small serving of peaches, but it’s the most food he’s had in months. He eats slowly, savouring each and every bite while various people come up to him and spew about how grateful they are and how much of a sacrifice this must be.

Daryl is ravenous beside him, eating like he hasn’t eaten in days. He huddles over his plate as if someone is going to snatch it from him any moment.

Rick has half the mind to tell him to stop or he’ll choke, but he kills that thought as quickly as it comes.  When the food is done they all gather around in the main hall, there’s booze on the left and games for the children on the right side of the room, along with low music playing in the background which some couples are dancing too.

He watches idly from the side as Glenn leads Maggie onto the dance floor, followed shortly by Bob and Sasha, then Abe and Rosita. It’s nice and he smiles kindly when Carol hands him a stiff drink, which he gulps down eagerly.

“Rick!” Beth calls to him, her arms wrapped around Zach. “Don’t think I didn’t see ya cowerin’ away from me! Come share ‘least one dance with yer husband.”

This is unbearably awkward.

He rubs the back of his neck, flushing red from being put on the spot. Everyone has stopped to stare at him and he shrugs, jumbling his response like a fool. “I got two left feet…”

She sighs unhappily but doesn’t push the matter.

He scans the room looking for Daryl and finds him perched on one of the tables smoking. The sight is unnerving considering that there are other kids around, not to mention Judith but Rick lets it slide as he walks over to him. Daryl exhales smoke in the air, his hair falling into his eyes enclosing his face in shadow. The beauty mark heightens his features, making him look slightly androgynous.

“What?” Daryl barks. “The fuck ya want?”

Rick is actually stunned into silence.

Daryl's tone is full of hostility as if Rick is personally responsible for their predicament. To some degree he is, but it’s not like he requested the Governor to bring him a kid. “Just want ta see if ya needed anythin’,” Rick says cautiously.

“I’m fine,” Daryl grunts, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground. “Let’s just get this shit over with.”

“This shit?” Rick repeats slowly.

“Ya,” Daryl sneers. “This farce of a weddin’ ya’ll got goin’ on ‘round here. I ain’t no blushin’ bride and this isn’t a proper marriage. It’s just an arrangement, ya better not think I’m gonna suddenly turn into yer bitch overnight Grimes, and I ain’t takin’ yer last name neither.”

What the fuck?

Rick sighs deeply, nodding his head in slow recognition. No wonder the Governor wanted to get rid of Daryl, by definition he is a fucking brat. As if things could get any worse but knowing his luck they probably could. “Sure,” He deadpans, striding away from the kid.

Yup, he definitely got the shit end of the deal.

Judith is gurgling and smiling when he walks over and takes her from Carol. The festivities carry on, Rick mingles with his family, cracking jokes and having more fun than he’s had in a long time. They’ve started a game of poker in the far corner of the room and he stands by to watch Carl beat nearly everyone in the intense game.

The night wanes, people grow wary and start to leave. Rick hangs back, handing Judith off to Maggie before wishing people goodnight. Michonne pats him on the back as she passes, his eyes conveying how sorry she is. The crowd scatters and eventually the only people left are Rick and Daryl, plus a few people who stayed behind to clean up.

It’s late, probably past three am but Rick isn’t tired.

The air is thrumming with nervous energy and he feels all out of sorts, like his skin is on too tight. He sighs, long and deep, suddenly feeling sullen at the events that are about to take place. What the fuck is he going to do? He doesn’t have the slightest clue of what goes into where and who does what.

Daryl stands from his reclusive spot in the corner and stares at him. Rick is stalling, they both know it and eventually he jerks his head to the side, signaling that he’s ready.

**.*.**

The tunnels underground loop and detour to the deeper levels of the Prison complex.

Rick strides through the empty corridors, his cowboy boots clicking heavily against the concrete floor. Mentally he is going through everything he needs to do today, resolutely ignoring Daryl following behind him.

They’ll need to plan a run soon—they need more previsions, some new winter clothes, more ammo, guns, most of the food harvested this winter is stocked in jars and dried into jerky so there’s no need to worry about that.

Rick opens the fourth block H. that leads deeper underground.

It’s where he resides, along with his family and most of the members on the council. This is the largest cellblock and the most secluded, the cells themselves are bigger and meant for maximum security. They’ve done some renovation here and there to make it more liveable—to humanize it.

When they reach his cell he can see a look of surprise on Daryl’s face. This place is nothing like Woodbury, where they are out in the open the Prison holds many secrete and complex tunnels expanding far and wide. Rick has a theory that it must have been some kind of military complex as well, since he’s never been to a Prison that looked like this.

The bed is prepared, with lily white linens and a camera set up in the corner when they film the consummation of their marriage to send to the Governor for his monthly assessment.

There is a bottle of lube on the dresser, along with a large box of condoms. It’s all very clinical if he looks at it one way and not the other.

The _other_ way that turns his stomach violently and makes him recoil with disgust.

They enter the room and Rick immediately starts taking off his belt, placing his gun on the table. Daryl stands idly at the side, casually glancing around the room or staring at his beat up shoes.

“Want somethin’ to drink?” Rick asks in order to fill the silence.

“Nah,” Daryl mumbles. “Let’s just do this.”

Rick pauses.

“We don’t have to.”

They don’t, they have options now and they can wait until— _until when_? Rick isn’t exactly sure.

“Fuck it,” Daryl grunts. “Let’s get it over with.”

This is the situation, this is the choice and Rick has to endure. He turns on the camera, his hands trembling and he wonders what kind of sick, perverse pleasure the Governor gets out of watching them. It’s all irrelevant now because he agreed to this insanity in the first place, agreed the surveillance and violation of his privacy for the rest of his life.

It’s all for a purpose, he tells himself.

One life for the rest, Rick was a martyr and it would be worth it in the end. At least that’s what he told himself. This isn’t the time to start thinking, to start contemplating options because if he does he might just walk out the door and never come back. Instead he sheds his shirt, tossing it into the corner and sits on the bed to start with his boots.

By the time he’s finished he’s down to his boxers, reluctantly pulling down his pants. When he looks up he notices that Daryl hasn’t moved. The boy is standing awkwardly in the corner, face ashen and staring resolutely at the floor. Rick thinks about speaking, about telling Daryl that they didn’t have to do this but he doesn’t.

Daryl shuffles his feet, he nods once to himself before turning around and taking off his shirt.

The scars take him by surprise, they are grotesque, ugly things slicing up sweet—ample flesh and distorting it. The mangled skin on Daryl’s back is startling, Rick feels his stomach wrench when he realizes that they’ve probably tortured this kid for what his father did.

When Daryl turned around he looks away quickly.

Rick takes off his boxers, willing his hands to stop trembling. It’s stupid at the age of nearly forty and he’s never been with anyone, never looked at anyone besides his deceased wife.

 _Christ_ —he isn’t even hard.

“What are the instructions?” 

Rick stares at Daryl blankly, before he realises that he asked as question.  He moves to open the drawer near the bed and takes out a sheet of paper. A part of Rick wants to tear the damn thing up but instead he hands it over. He observes Daryl as he reads the sheet of paper the Governor had handed him several weeks prior to the arrangement.

Daryl goes beat red, the blush spanning all this down his neck and to his chest. Then his face twists into repulsion, his lip curls downward and he scoffs loudly. “What the fuck? I ain’t doin’ that shit!”

“And you think I want to?” Rick sneers. “Until yesterday we thought you were a woman… _Christ_!”

“So this is my fault now? Ya sick fuck! What kinda person would agree to this shit?”

Rick bristles.

It hasn’t even been forty-eight hours and already Daryl was digging under his skin, like a damn pest and he could feel his fury building. None of them asked for this shit.

The Governor had thoroughly fucked them over and there was _nothing_ —absolutely nothing Rick could do, unless he wanted this arrangement to blow up in his fucking face and ruin everything they have worked so hard for.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth you pampered brat,” Rick barks.

“I guess bein’ kidnapped and fuckin’ coerced in havin’ sex with a man that’s like a hundred is me bein’ a spoiled brat. That logic makes so much sense,” Daryl derides, tossing the sheet of paper on the floor.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” Rick snaps. “I don’t like it any more than you do but we are doin’ whatever that paper says.”

“And if I don’t?” Daryl challenges. “Are ya gonna force me?”

“If I have to,” Rick spits back fiercely.

Something akin to fear flickers across Daryl's face and Rick knows that he probably underestimated him. The silence between them stretches on, Daryl glares at him vehemently but they both know that if they don’t produce exactly what the Governor wants they will most likely be dead.

For a brief moment his eyes drop to the paper on the ground. He knows how explicit the Governor had been in his instructions, how particular he had been. Rick read it a hundred times, fucking memorised it word for word.

The whole thing appalled him, on his wedding night the Governor had thought of the most degrading and horrendous things he had to do to Daryl.

And they have to do it, there is absolutely no way around this. Rick clenches his jaw, he _loathes_ that he has become this person—transformed into something dark and hideous. The world made him like this; molded him like clay until he knew nothing except barbarism, rage and violence.

The endless terrain of piss and shit, death and destruction lay before him if they didn’t consummate this arrangement—if they fail everything would crumble around them. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t just or right but it was reality. The vicious cycle of carnage and fear would go on as long as he let it, as long as the Governor was in power.

Rick squares his shoulders, fixing the kid with icy blue determination.

“Spread yer legs and get on the fuckin’ bed.”

**.*.**


	2. ***IMPORTANT A/N****

Wow.

Where do I begin? The last 365 days have been a total whirlwind.

It's honestly hard to believe it's been a full year since I became a published author. Since that was the one thing I wanted to be since I was 8 years old, I never thought I would be able to achieve that at 26. But- I owe it all to all of you. Thank you, Elvis is now available on Kindle for free! With stunning new characters and an alternate ending.

Many of you don't know this but if it wasn't for all of the continued support, I probably wouldn't have followed through with actually publishing my book. Putting my writing out there was scary... it still is. Two years ago, I took a gamble and posted on AO3 how I was near completion of my very first book I would want to publish. Only a few reacted to the post and I thought to myself, "who is even going to read this thing?"

I questioned my writing and the idea of publishing it for a while. Then as I dove deeper into my novel, I decided to publish the first chapter unedited on my blog to see what would happen. I don't know what I was expecting - well, I do, I was expecting people to not even read it.

So, when so many people reached out saying they wanted to read more, I was in a state of disbelief.

Those of you who have supported me and this story please leave your names and a review on amazon.com. The link will be posted blow.

*****https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07CZZSDRB****

 

Also leave a review on Goodreads! 

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to the three people who helped edit this story Ilovesunshine, Snazzelle and lastly my partner in crime TheBlackRoom. You guys seriously rock! 
> 
> This story is loosely based off "The Arrangement" by Pandelle18 so if you haven't already check out her story as well! 
> 
> Thoughts?


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